Warwick Castle, Warwickshire, England
August 1466
Alaric Neville, best known as Earl of Warwick and the Kingmaker, crushes the piece of parchment until it is a crumpled up mess on the floor. As fury threatens to consume him, Alaric wishes he could be back in battle. With a sword in his hand and slaying his enemies, Warwick is invincible. The same could be said about him when it came to influencing important matters of the realm. Not anymore, it would seem. Months ago, the King would have written to him himself, asking for counsel on how to proceed. Now, he receives summoning letters as if he is a mere lord and hears critical news from Beckington. He should be at the forefront of these deals, not pushed aside.
After all, he is the reason why the crown lays upon Niklaus' head. Niklaus is King due to his money, his men, his influence. If it wasn't for him, the boy would have been killed under Margaret's orders, much like his father. Alaric is the one who saved him and his entire family from a life of despair. How dare him?
"Husband! Are you well?" Joanna barges into the room; her usual placid expression now replaced by one of shock. Alaric frowns in confusion, not understanding why she would ask him that.
It is only then that he notices the metal goblet on the floor; the bronze twisted beyond recognition and red wine staining the tapestry. It would seem that his anger did get the best of him. What a shame, Alaric thinks as he spares the item a glance, such a fine gift all destroyed.
"Yes, I am well," Alaric replies as he runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath to regain his calm.
"Then what is the reason for this?" Joanna asks in a surprisingly soothing tone; moving beside him and placing both hands on his shoulders.
Their marriage may have been one of convenience at first, but after many years and two daughters, they have become more than mere husband and wife. They are companions, allies, and Joanna has come to know him better than she knows herself.
"I have received two letters," he starts to say; feeling slighted once more. "One requesting my presence in court, and another from Bishop Thomas, who relays me the rather critical news."
Sensing his mood and recognizing the familiar name, Joanna becomes still for a moment. Bishop Thomas is a clergyman who has enjoyed a great rise due to Alaric's influence. Alaric's faith in him has paid off many times over, as the bishop's gratitude has always prompted him to share crucial and sometimes confidential information. If it is a letter from Thomas, it must be quite an important matter.
"He tells me that while the Pope was hesitant to do so, he has granted the King a dispensation to marry his witch. Niklaus' marriage to Queen Aurora, or rather, Princess Aurora, is considered invalid."
Joanna is wise enough to know this is hardly pleasant news. While their family fortune is secure, dating back from hundreds of years, much of her husband's influence on the King is due to his ability to successfully negotiate treaties with reluctant allies. Alaric's deal with King Louis cemented his position as Kingmaker and the most important man in the realm, even before the King's siblings. The good relationship English boasted with France has only served to make him stronger.
King Niklaus' careless decision to discard Princess Aurora could unravel years of peace and stability, for it would most definitely anger Louis. England and France have always had such animosity; it would not take much to bring them to the brink of war once more. A witch on the throne- the same throne that once belonged to a princess of France would be too much for some to bear.
"I believed the Pope had denied the request for an annulment. Wasn't that what prompted that outrageous ceremony?" Joanna asks in confusion; referring to the gaudy event from months ago when the witch was elevated to unimaginable heights. "How can he grant it now?"
"The reasoning behind his decision matters not," Alaric mutters with a dismissive wave of a hand. "The consequences of it are what is important."
"War?" Joanna asks; feeling a shiver run down her spine. After so many lost lives, so much blood spilled, the thought of living through that again is terrifying.
"More than war, I am afraid. The decline of our family and our name."
Joanna covers her mouth to hide the sharp gasp of surprise. The Nevilles have been powerful for decades, perhaps centuries. How can one King erase that?
"You believe the situation to be that grave? You are the Kingmaker, husband."
"I am, but I cannot help but see that the King does not think clearly. He is smitten and thinking with his britches."
A King thinking with his britches is just a man, a man who is willing to throw caution to the wind and to forget what his position entails. As a warrior, Niklaus was composed and just the right amount of senseless. As a man, he is dangerous, and Alaric has presented himself as being fiercely opposed to the match.
"Smitten or not, the King is not a halfwit. He sits on the throne because of you, he certainly would not dare," Joanna hisses in indignation; the sharp features of her face becoming particularly harder, causing her to look much older. "He will come to his senses. In the meantime, do not attempt to go against him. Pretend to support him, even if it is not your true feelings."
Sitting in the armchair, Alaric read the words scrawled on the parchment once more and reaches for the cup of ale. He savors the beverage, wishing it could be a fine wine from Bordeaux instead. He also savors his wife's words, noting the tint of outrage in them and her obvious guile. Despite being raised to become the perfect lady who did not show interest in important matters, Joanna is as cunning as one can be and clever as any man.
"It would seem that you are right, wife," Alaric murmurs, swirling the liquid inside the cup before taking a healthy gulp.
Even as a master manipulator, the Kingmaker, there is not much left for Alaric to do but hope this strategy is effective.
Westminster Palace, London, England
August 1466
Elijah, the Duke of Somerset, sighs in impatience before entering his brother's private study. Not surprisingly, he finds Niklaus there; his face buried in a pile of parchment and a glint in his eyes. The sight would be rather amusing if Elijah wasn't irritated.
"You are late, brother," Elijah states in a louder voice than required to make sure he would be noticed. "Most of the Lords have already arrived and they await you in the Hall and I find you here, enthralled by your books."
Elijah is aware his tone is less than ideal – perhaps even unacceptable – to address the King, but he finds Niklaus' behavior to be childish. Niklaus has been known to be quite undisciplined when it comes to the realm, preferring to entrust many of tedious, but important tasks to himself or their cousin. It is clear his brother favors the more pleasurable aspects of being King, and Elijah has never reprehended him for it.
However, the already fragile peace in the kingdom is about to be threatened due to Niklaus' own actions. It is only right that Niklaus finally begins to act like the ruler he is. And it should start with today's ceremony. Most of the Lords are worried about the fate of the country, and Elijah knows better than to ignore their concerns. They of all people should know how much of a threat a disgruntled noble can pose to the crown.
"If you must know, I was going through plans for renovations of the Queen's rooms. I shall only have perfection for my bride!" Klaus exclaims with a grin brighter than usual. "And lest I am mistaken, I happen to be the King. And as the King, I am never late."
Elijah cannot help but chuckle at his arrogant statement.
"It should do you well not to be too comfortable, brother. The Pope may have granted you the dispensation, but you still need to deal with the nobles," he warns, not to threaten, but to counsel. As much as it pleases him to see his brother overtaken by happiness, Elijah has decided it is best to keep his strategic mind.
Niklaus draws his shoulders in a tense posture, resembling a cat that is ready to attack. The eldest Mikaelson has no doubt a verbal attack would have ensued if it was not for the guard's announcement.
"Your Grace, the Earl of Warwick."
Alaric enters the room and pauses for the customary bow, much to both brother's surprise. After all, Alaric has decided to retire to Warwick Castle right after quietly protesting the creation of Bonnie's title.
Even though he was careful not to say an impolite word and further antagonize him, Klaus knows Alaric was less than happy to see him move forward with his relationship with Bonnie. Klaus has expected to see him today at the announcement, but this is unexpected.
"Cousin, I am glad to see you!" Elijah greets in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence that has settled in the room. "We are headed to the Hall."
"Niklaus," Alaric starts to say but hesitates as he clears his throat. "Your Grace, I would like for us to have a brief conversation before your announcement."
"Oh?" Niklaus tilts his head, forcing himself not to show any emotion. In this case, it is best to remain impassive than to lose control.
"I see the error of my ways and I plead for your forgiveness. My behavior was unacceptable and it was never my intention to cause disrespect," Alaric whispers; humility seeping from his voice in a way that startles all of those in the room. The Earl of Warwick does not plead for forgiveness; he does not recognize the error of his ways.
Klaus crosses his arms and shifts his weight from one foot to another, not knowing how to react. Feuding with Warwick has nor been pleasant, as his cousin remains essential to him. Yet, this behavior is so odd that he is left motionless. There is only one small matter that persists in his mind. A fundamental matter and will dictate whether he will grant Warwick his pardon.
"I am certain you know the reason why I have summoned the nobles to court. The Pope granted me a dispensation and it is my intention to marry Lady Bonnie this year. Will you support me in my decision?"
As the most influential noble in court, Alaric's support would be crucial to getting the nobles in line. Not even Norfolk or Northumberland, two vain wretches, would dare to question him.
"I am more than pleased in supporting you," Alaric assures with a nod, wondering if his voice sounds as stilted to them as it is to him.
Perhaps it is because he does not believe this marriage to be for the good of the realm. It does not matter, though. Niklaus has his mind set on this and if the Pope has consented, no man will be able to convince him otherwise.
"Then I will be happy to have you return to court as one of my most esteemed advisors. On the condition that you show nothing but respect to the Duchess, who is to become your Queen," Klaus finally says after a drawn out silent moment. There was no other decision in his mind, Warwick was far too important to him and the realm, but Klaus needed him to understand his standing.
Despite his discreet nature, Elijah fails to conceal the obvious sigh of relief at seeing Niklaus and Alaric come to a resolution.
"Well, I must say it pleases me to no end to see you have reconciled," Elijah says with a smile when he realizes their eyes focused on him. "Our King has been somewhat distraught with your absence, if you ask me. Now, shall we go?"
Klaus wipes away a piece of lint on his right shoulder and stands with a straighter spine. Dressed in a royal blue waistcoat, he looks every bit of the conqueror King he is.
"Yes, we shall," Klaus utters with a subtle nod, attempting not to seem as anxious as he feels. Even though the Pope has blessed his union, he doubts the Lords will share the same opinion.
It hardly matters. With the Pope's consent, Klaus has God on his side. And if the nobles do not happen to be religious men, he has Warwick.
Westminster Hall, London, England
August, 1466
And so, in an ordinary Tuesday morning, King Niklaus announces his betrothal to Lady Bonnie Bennett, the Duchess of Kendal and March.
"My Lords, as some of you may be aware, my marriage to Princess Aurora of France has been declared invalid, and I find myself free to take another wife," Klaus states; his firm and loud voice filling the Hall with much ease. Despite previous anxiety, Klaus finds that he is quite comfortable when in a position of authority. Next to the throne, his throne, he is nothing less than mighty.
Gathered around their King, but standing in a respectable distance, many of the Lords trade concerned glances. The news of the annulment was known to most of them, or at least to the Lords who could pay a bishop or a Cardinal with connections to Rome for information. However, it would seem that the identity of the King's future bride remains concealed.
Well, there have been some rumors around court ever since he granted the Lady Bonnie Bennett a rather important title, but most of the Lords regarded that as foolish gossip. Most likely, the King created the title to appease his mistress and to make her more palatable for another man to marry her after taking her honor.
It is one thing for the King to use his authority to concede lands and titles, but marriage to a witch is inconceivable. No, the King must marry a vampire Princess with impeccable royal lineage.
"I have decided to wed the Lady Bonnie Bennett, the Duchess of Kendal and March," he announces; his tone final and not allowing the Lords any room to question his decision.
As curious as it may be, Klaus notes that the ill-conceived looks of astonishment bring him a sense of glee. For quite a long time, these Lords believed him to be a puppet who would only do their bidding. Not anymore.
"But, Your Grace," the Earl of Ulster interjects; hesitance obvious on his pale face. The corners of his thin lips turn downward as he struggles to choose his words. "The Lady Bennett is a witch. No witch has ever sat on the throne of England in hundreds of years. It is not right!"
Klaus finds their indignation to be so pathetic that a sardonic laugh slips out of his lips before he can control it.
"Not right? I would believe my forthcoming union to be blessed, given that the Pope, who answers only to God, has consented to this marriage," Klaus responds; aware that no other noble would be able to disregard the validity of the betrothal.
After all, what good Christian would go against the Pope?
"Your Grace," Warwick assents as he drops to one knee in an obvious sign of support.
Klaus can hardly keep the smirk off his face when the other Lords soon follow.
"Thank you, my Lords," he finally utters as he sits on the throne; not a drop of humility in his tone.
The following day, right after morning mass, it is announced that the King is to marry the Duchess of Kendal and March. King Niklaus, sitting in the front pew, does little to hide his prideful expression. Why should he?
He's won.
St. George's Chapel, Windsor
October, 1466
It is one of the most resplendent royal weddings in English history; Klaus has made sure of that. Others may attempt to hide their true feelings from him, but he is not a simp. He knows many consider this match to be unsuitable, he knows the court gossip is vicious to Bonnie. That is the reason why he wishes to show all of England, perhaps all of Europe, that Bonnie is the most precious bride and she is no lesser than Aurora or any other Princess.
There will be no procession through the streets of London or a ceremony at Westminster Abbey like he has planned at first. Klaus can hardly wait months and months for preparations to have Bonnie as his wife. The newly built St. George's Chapel is chosen instead and meticulously embellished with the glittering ornaments commissioned for this special occasion.
Wearing a doublet made of dark blue silk brocade with gold thread embroidery, Klaus makes a striking bridegroom. A striking, but rather an anxious one; he notes with a frown when he sees the slight tremble in his hands. It is quite rather odd. After all, he is not an easily unnerved man and this is not his first time in this position. He should not be nervous, but this is Bonnie.
The simple thought of Bonnie, Klaus finds, is enough to make his heart race in a rather uncomfortable manner. And the sight of her makes him feel like a thirteen-year-old discovering love for the first time; silly and with clammy skin.
Klaus is hardly a wordsmith or a scholar; preferring swords over books, but in this moment he wishes he could know better words to describe how Bonnie looks when she steps out of the carriage.
Perfection is the only word that comes to mind. She is utter perfection.
The pale morning gleam bathes Bonnie; her light brown skin taking a golden tone. She is a vision in white silk, blue flowers, and pearls. Her curls - the same curls that have captivated him the first time he saw her in that damn tent - are unbound and so lovely he has to stop his arms from reaching.
It would be proper to school his features remain inscrutable, just as he did on his first wedding. The pews are filled with officials from all of Europe – France is notably absent, as one could already expect – and all of the English nobility and courtiers. Showing emotion in such a public setting would be unbecoming and could even be construed as weakness. And yet, Klaus finds impossible to keep the grin off his face.
Bonnie will become his. Finally.
Windsor Castle, Berkshire, England
October, 1466
The sun has set; leaving the room to be illuminated by the milky white moon, a collection of bright stars scattered on the sky and the hissing flames from the fireplace.
Outside, the grand feast - so carefully prepared to celebrate this occasion - continues. Bonnie can hear the violins playing an energetic tune. The saltarello, perhaps? Her tutor has said to have a good ear for music, but she would always get -
"I do not know whether I should feel offended by your keen interest in whatever seems to be happening outside," Klaus finally speaks up, breaking the silence and startling her.
"Your Grace," Bonnie starts to say, rushing to apologize for any slight she may have caused. For a moment she wants to laugh at her inadequacy. It is her wedding night, and she may have aggrieved him.
He smiles; charming and warm. A smile meant to soothe her. It does, just a little. Months ago, the idea of marriage to a high ranking noble may have seemed like a nightmare, but not anymore. She wants to please him, to make him happy.
"I am your husband, love," he says, and Bonnie tries to ignore the tiny delighted jolt her heart gives at that realization. He is her husband, she is his wife. "I do not want us to concern with matters of ceremony and precedence whenever we are alone."
"Nik," she murmurs with some hesitation, almost as if she tastes the word on her lips. It is even sweeter than she has imagined, calling him by his name. A rush of boldness goes through her. "Perhaps it would be wise to call one of my ladies."
Even though the flower garland is long gone, Bonnie is still wearing her wedding gown; a long and rather impractical piece, fit to her body in such a way that she could not possibly remove by herself.
"No need for that," Klaus says, shaking his head as he cuts the distance that separates them. "I have told your ladies that I am to attend you."
His breath is warm against the skin of her neck, and her laugh mixes with a shiver of her own.
"Attend me? Are you to become one of my maids?" Bonnie wonders with a chuckle, keenly aware of their closeness.
"Oh, love. I'm afraid my talents lie elsewhere," Klaus laments with a grave voice as he pushes the curtain of her hair over her shoulder to expose the column of her neck. Dainty and alluring. "However, I do wish to be the one to undress you."
Bonnie feels warmth spreading from her face to the tips of her toes; her heart racing to a nearly unbearable rhythm. It is an unfamiliar sensation, and she does not know how to react. Perhaps she could try and be a little bolder.
"Who am I to deny a King's wish?" she asks; her voice coming out much weaker than she intended to as her throat feels quite dry. Klaus, however, does not seem to mind.
His lips seem to have melded onto the skin of her neck as he undoes the lacings of the dress. For a split second, Bonnie wonders how he can be so skillful.
"Tonight, I am only your husband, not your king," he breathes out when he has the strength to pull himself away from her. "And I want to love my wife."
Bonnie sways, feeling faint from the warmth coming from the hissing fire and his words. She's known he was charming, but it has never affected her in such a way before. If it were not for his hands, she would be down on the floor.
He undoes the rest of the lacings and the dress falls to her feet in a puddle of white silk. Bonnie gasps in surprise, feeling the urge to cover herself. He stops her, though.
"You look exquisite, love," Klaus says, nosing her curls and breathing her scent in. Juniper and lavender. "Please, do not hide from me."
Bonnie nods; the fluttering inside her stomach even stronger now. She wants something, but she can't quite tell what it is. All that she knows is that she needs him close.
Their lips meet in a familiar motion, reminding Bonnie of that time in the gardens of Stafford House. It is not quite as awkward this time, as it seems that their bodies just know what to do without being guided by their minds. They kiss; warm and soft, and then intense in a way she did not know was possible. He tastes sweet, like her favorite Malmsey wine, and Bonnie wants to keep kissing him until they both grow dizzy and breathless.
Klaus pulls away with a pained sigh; the blue of his eyes now a thin ring circling his black, dilated pupils. Illuminated by the orange fire, he looks dangerous and nothing like a dashing vampire gentleman. He looks like a werewolf, and Bonnie is immediately drawn.
This is the side of himself that he keeps hidden from everyone, and yet he trusts her enough to reveal it to her. Somehow, it feels more intimate than a kiss, more intimate than standing next to him in nothing but a silk slip. They share a smile; both inebriated by sweet wine and each other.
"Come, my love. Let us make an heir to quash any threat against the crown."
A/N: There you have it, folks. They are finally married! This chapter is supposed to mark the end of the first part, which was mostly focused on their courtship. There will be plenty of Klonnie in the next part that will begin with the next chapter, but lots of political machinations. I even left some little clues. If you're a history fan, you probably already have an idea of what is going to happen, but I don't want to spoil it! I'm off to work on the next chapter, but I would love to hear what your opinion and your predictions for Klonnie in the future!